


Right Here, Right Now

by kjack89



Series: High School AU [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cheese, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Prom, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 07:03:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2141586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smiling indulgently, Enjolras repeated, “Grantaire, will you go to prom with me?”</p>
<p>"I—" Grantaire seemed close to panicking, his eyes still wide, and Enjolras frowned, about to ask him what was wrong when Grantaire choked out, "I can’t."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Here, Right Now

**Author's Note:**

> This is, without doubt, completely unashamedly (at the end, at least) the cheesiest, most ridiculous thing I've written.
> 
> Consider yourself warned.
> 
> Other than that, usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

Enjolras gripped the base of Grantaire’s skull and pulled him closer to kiss him gently. Grantaire couldn’t help but smile against his lips as he wove his fingers into Enjolras’s hair, tugging gently on the golden curls. “Good afternoon,” he murmured when the kiss had ended. “I’ll take it someone missed me?”

“You know I did,” Enjolras whispered back, kissing him again, harder this time.

Now Grantaire laughed, though he made no move to pull away from Enjolras, instead resting his forehead against Enjolras’s. “We did have seventh period together, in case you had forgotten already.”

Enjolras made a face at him. “How could I forget?” he asked, rolling his eyes. “You were determined to contradict every word I said. I didn’t realize that you had so many strong feelings about  _The Great Gatsby_.”

"Oh, I don’t," Grantaire told him cheerfully. "Couldn’t care less. But you have lots of feelings about it, and let’s be honest, you look so adorable when you get all flustered."

Jerking away from him, Enjolras glared at Grantaire. “You mean you did that  _on purpose_?” he seethed, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Grantaire just laughed and leaned in to kiss the pout off his face. “You know you liked it.”

A knock sounded on Enjolras’s bedroom door and both of them sprang apart guiltily. “Bedroom door open,” Enjolras’s mom reminded him as she opened the door, though she looked far more amused than angry. “Hello, Grantaire.”

"Hi Mom," both boys chorused in unison (Enjolras’s parents had long since stopped finding it odd that Grantaire called them ‘mom’ and ‘dad’, if ever they did; Enjolras’s dad just sighed and shook his head and said that it prepared them for the inevitable day Enjolras and Grantaire got married, and Enjolras blushed scarlet).

Enjolras’s mom’s smile softened when she looked at Grantaire. “How are you doing, sweetie? Tom and Christine treating you ok?”

Grantaire’s eyes lit up. “They’re great,” he said honestly, smiling at her. “The de Courfeyrac’s are great. And even living with Courf isn’t bad.”

Enjolras smiled at him as well, still glad that things had worked out and that the de Courfeyrac’s had been able to take Grantaire in (Mr. de Courfeyrac had mentioned off-handedly that they always had an open door and took in plenty of strays). And besides, Grantaire living at one of Enjolras’s best friend’s houses meant that Enjolras could visit him pretty much whenever he wanted to.

Still, the best time they spent was afternoons here in Enjolras’s bedroom, lying next to each other on Enjolras’s bed as they studied and stealing kisses when they thought Enjolras’s parents weren’t looking.

They still had sex (though only ever at Courfeyrac’s house or, when they were feeling adventurous, some of the old places they used to), since they had started their relationship with blowjobs and such long before it was even a relationship, but they both privately cherished just being together.

As if she followed that train of thought, Enjolras’s mom cleared her throat and told them, “Dinner will be ready in an hour,” before adding sternly, “Door stays open” (though she winked at them as she left, closing the door behind her so that it was only open a crack).

Grantaire grinned as he turned back to Enjolras, kissing him once more. “Now, where were we?” he murmured, wrapping his fingers in Enjolras’s curls.

Enjolras laughed breathlessly as he kissed him back before pulling away slightly. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I was just about to ask you to go to prom with me.”

There was a long moment where Grantaire just stared at Enjolras, wide-eyed. “You — what?” Grantaire managed.

Smiling indulgently, Enjolras repeated, “Grantaire, will you go to prom with me?”

"I—" Grantaire seemed close to panicking, his eyes still wide, and Enjolras frowned, about to ask him what was wrong when Grantaire choked out, "I can’t."

Now it was Enjolras’s turn to gape at him. “What do you mean, you can’t?” he asked softly. “I mean, if it’s about money, you know my parents don’t mind—”

"It’s not about money," Grantaire said quickly, blushing slightly. "I…look, I would love to go to prom with you, but like I said, I  _can’t._ " He looked down, the blush on his cheeks deepening. "It’s…I was suspended. And school rules are that once you’ve been suspended, you can’t go to prom. Or homecoming. Any school dances." He looked up at Enjolras nervously. "Don’t…don’t misunderstand, I would  _love_  to go to prom with you, I just…”

"Can’t," Enjolras finished numbly, looking anguished. "I had no idea. Does that…does that mean I can’t…?"

Grantaire shook his head, his expression softening. “Only out-of-school suspensions count. You’re fine. You can go. You  _should_  go.”

"But that’s not fair!" Enjolras exclaimed. "What I did was just as bad as what you did! Why should you be punished again and I shouldn’t?"

Shrugging, Grantaire idly traced a pattern on the quilt with his finger. “The world’s not fair, Enjolras,” he said softly. “It’s fine. Really. If I wasn’t dating the future prom king, I would never have gone to prom anyway.”

Enjolras’s face darkened at the insinuation that he would ever be prom king, but then he nodded firmly. “Fine. If you can’t go, I won’t go.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Grantaire said, almost laughing. “Did you miss the part where you’ll probably be voted prom king? You can’t miss that.”

Frowning deeply, Enjolras said in a low voice, “If you think I would miss out on spending time with you just because of some archaic, asinine vote of high school popularity based almost entirely on looks and not substance, you’ve got another think coming.” He reached out to cup Grantaire’s cheek. “I love you. I’m not going to prom without you. And since you can’t come, well…”

Grantaire reached up, holding Enjolras’s hand against his cheek, his own thumb running over Enjolras’s knuckles. “But this is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing,” he reminded Enjolras softly. “They make movies about prom. This is a big cultural thing. And I wouldn’t want you to miss out on something like that because of me.”

“But without you, it wouldn’t be anything significant in my life,” Enjolras said softly. “It would be…it would be just another boring day surrounded by people from high school that I couldn’t care less about, that I won’t be friends with ever again after we graduate. But you…” He smiled and kissed Grantaire softly. “You’re my future.”

It was Grantaire’s turn to blush, and he kissed Enjolras back for a long moment. “You mean that?” he asked finally, tentatively, his nose brushing against Enjolras’s. “I mean, you’re going to go to college and probably meet a lot of guys who are smarter and better than I am—”

Enjolras crushed his lips against Grantaire’s, kissing him desperately, pushing him down against the bed and holding him there. “Never,” he said fiercely. “Never, Grantaire. There will never be anyone else that compares to you. I promise you that. I…I love you.”

Though they had said it many times before, it was never like this, solemn and more like a promise than anything. “I love you, too,” Grantaire said quietly, “but you can’t deny that going off to college would be a strain on any relationship…”

“Ours is not just any relationship,” Enjolras objected hotly. “And we can get through everything.”

Grantaire chuckled lightly. “As I imagine every single high school couple has said at one point in time or another. But we have to acknowledge the truth eventually, and the truth is that there’s an awfully large probability of us never lasting much past high school. And I know that.”

Enjolras was frowning at him so darkly that Grantaire almost quailed under his gaze. “Well  _I_  don’t,” Enjolras practically growled. “I’m not letting you go. Just as I’m sure as hell not going to prom without you. There is not a moment that I can picture where I won’t want you by my side. What do I have to do to prove that?”

Sighing, Grantaire reached up and kissed the corner of Enjolras’s mouth. “Nothing,” he said, a little sadly. “There’s nothing you can do to prove that.”

With that said, he sat up, pushing Enjolras gently away as he ran a distracted hand through his curls. “I should get going.”

“You’re not going to stay for dinner?”

Grantaire didn’t meet Enjolras’s eyes as he tugged his sneakers on. “I’ll make my apologies to Mom on my way out.” He leaned over and kissed Enjolras once more before standing. “And I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”

Then he was gone, and Enjolras stared after him, expression dark.

* * *

 

The next few weeks were…different. There was no other way to put it. Grantaire was different, spending hardly any time at Enjolras’s, and though he still kissed Enjolras with just as much enthusiasm, it was still different. Enjolras couldn’t help but watch Grantaire, trying to figure out what was going on.

And in the meantime, he planned.

When the weekend of prom rolled around, Enjolras and Grantaire spent time with their friends, laughing and joking as they all got ready, acting more like a couple than they had in weeks. Grantaire reclined on the couch in Courfeyrac’s house, grinning. “Good thing we aren’t going to prom, right?” he asked easily. “No monkey suits for us.”

Enjolras’s eyes snapped to his and he seemed to have an internal debate for a second. “About that…” he said finally. “I left something for you in your room. You should go put it on.”

“Is this a sex thing?” Grantaire asked with a wicked grin.

Rolling his eyes, Enjolras snapped, “No, not a sex thing. Just…go, would you?”

Grantaire frowned but headed up to his room, surprised to find a tux waiting for him. They weren’t going to prom, so why in the world would Enjolras have rented a tux for him? Something like nerves and anticipation mixed in his stomach and he pulled the tux on, leaving the bowtie hanging around his neck.

He wandered back downstairs to find Enjolras waiting for him, impeccably dressed in a tux of his own, all their friends having already left. The breath seemed to stick in Grantaire’s throat until he managed, “I don’t know how to tie a bowtie.”

The look on Enjolras’s face softened. “Come here,” he commanded gently.

Grantaire shuffled over to him, letting Enjolras tie the bowtie with nimble fingers. As he did, Grantaire murmured, “Do I even want to know what you have planned?”

Enjolras kissed him lightly. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

He led Grantaire outside to his car (well, to the car he had borrowed from his dad), and opened the door for Grantaire. “Very chivalrous,” Grantaire told him with a grin.

Rolling his eyes, Enjolras slid into the driver’s seat. “I aim to please,” he said dryly. “Seatbelt.”

They spent the drive in relative silence, music playing softly over the radio. Grantaire drummed his fingers against the seat and asked, “Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?”

Enjolras ignored him until they drove into the park, and Grantaire raised an eyebrow as he looked around. “You know it’s technically against the law to be here after dark,” he remarked, though he sounded more amused than anything. “I wouldn’t want you to become a criminal on my account or something.”

“Ha, ha,” Enjolras said without amusement, finally bringing the car to a stop. He left the car and crossed around to open Grantaire’s door for him, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together. “Come on.”

He led Grantaire into the forest until they got to a small clearing, which had been decorated with little lights and lanterns, and Grantaire glanced around, eyes wide. “This is…this is beautiful,” he said honestly, meaning every word.

Enjolras smiled slightly, though he also looked nervous. “I’ve been thinking,” he started, taking both of Grantaire’s hands in his. “These past few weeks have been…weird, to be honest. And it all started with you not believing that I will love you forever. I tried to think of what I could do prove it to you, and I came up with three options. This…this is option 1.”

“What, escaping to the forest together?” Grantaire teased, though his mouth had gone dry.

Shaking his head, Enjolras fumbled in his pocket for a moment. “No. This.” Then he knelt down on one knee, holding a ring box out to Grantaire, who stared at him blankly. “Grantaire, will you marry me?”

Grantaire couldn’t seem to remember how words worked, though he managed to yank on Enjolras’s wrist to pull him upright. “I…what?”

“Will you marry me?” Enjolras repeated determinedly. “What better way is there to prove that I love you than marrying you?”

Still staring at him, Grantaire shook his head, though some of the dazed look left his face. “We are eighteen years old, Enjolras.” Grantaire’s voice was soft and unbelievably gentle. “And as much as I love you, I am not going to agree to marry you. Not right now. Ask me in four years when we’re both out of school, when we have our feet under us, and I promise I will say yes, but right now…No.”

Enjolras nodded as if he had expected it (and he had, though that did nothing to diminish the sting of the words), and he slipped the ring box back in his pocket. “Ok, then option 2.”

From his inside jacket pocket he pulled a folded piece of paper and handed it out to Grantaire, who took it with a frown and unfolded it, reading it out loud. “Dear Mr. Enjolras, we are pleased to offer you admission to the University of Chicago…” He trailed off and looked at Enjolras, who was looking back at him defiantly. “I thought you were going to Princeton.”

“I also got into the University of Chicago,” Enjolras answered quietly. “And since you’re going to the School of the Art Institute, we could be in the same city instead of halfway across the country. And U of C has a great international relations program, and—”

“You said that U of C’s international relations program was too focused on capitalist economics,” Grantaire interjected, frowning even deeper. “Which means you would only be going to U of C for me.”

Enjolras met his eyes squarely. “Is that such a bad thing?”

Sighing, Grantaire looked down at the letter in his hand. “It would be almost perfect,” he said wistfully. “At least, until I remembered how much you raved about the Woodrow Wilson School and the professors you would have and the opportunities you would have. And then I would think about how you gave that all up just for me. And that would not be a good feeling. That would be the absolute worst feeling in the world.”

Though Enjolras nodded again, this time he had to swallow, hard, to stop from saying all the things he wanted to say. “Then there’s only one other option.” His voice was quiet but firm.

Grantaire shrugged helplessly. “What other option is there?”

“You have to just believe me when I say that I love you, that I will always love you.” Enjolras’s words were stark and sincere and above all, honest. “I can’t make you promises that everything will always work out. I can only promise that I love you and that I cannot ever imagine not loving you. We’ve been through hell together and it has only made me love you more. And for me, that’s enough.” He paused, then added, even softer, “You just have to believe it’s enough, too.”

There was a long silence as Grantaire stared at him, indecision battling with something deeper in his expression. Then he threw his arms around Enjolras and kissed him until they were both breathless. “I believe in you,” Grantaire whispered, his lips still pressed against Enjolras’s. “I have always believed in you. And that is enough. I love you.”

Enjolras rested his forehead against Grantaire’s. “I love you, too. And thank God for that. Because otherwise the tattoo I got would be really awkward.”

Grantaire pulled away. “I’m sorry? A tattoo?”

A smile flitted across Enjolras face and he tugged his shirt up to reveal a tattoo in pretty calligraphy across his ribs that read, “forevER” with a heart. Grantaire stared at it. “That…that may be the cheesiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

The smile on Enjolras’s face faltered. “You don’t like it?”

“Like it?” Grantaire croaked, still staring. “Are you fucking kidding me? I want to get a matching one.”

Enjolras laughed, clearly relieved. “It  _is_  cheesy,” he agreed, “but it’s also true. And I believe in it so much that I got it tattooed on me where it will last - wait for it - forever.”

Grantaire sighed. “If I didn’t love you so much…” He didn’t finished his sentence before Enjolras had grabbed him and kissed him again, and Grantaire laughed softly against Enjolras’s lips. “I love you. Forever. And I truly believe that.”

“Good,” Enjolras whispered. “So do I.”


End file.
